Synesthesia
by Wolfish Inclinations
Summary: The relationship between Aang and Katara as explored through the ten senses. Vignette series. AxK Now complete.
1. Smell

**Disclaimer**: I, in no way, shape of form, own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

**A/N**: The first of ten.

**_Dedication:_**_ Kantama, who made a crappy, crappy week a lot better, and thus gave me the energy to finish this one little vignette._

Something was not quite right, yet this night seemed no different from the rest.

Katara groaned, it had always been affliction that if a single variation on the normal conditions occurred, she couldn't sleep a wink. After her mother's death, she had hardly found sleep at all for weeks. The night after they had found Aang, she had paced up and down the length of her village all night, nervous energy interfering with her normal rhythms.

A perfectly clear night. Sokka to her right, Aang to her left. Zuko across the fire, still not trusting enough to sleep near them. Iroh between the formerly separated groups.

Aang would occasionally sigh, Zuko would mumble, and Sokka and Iroh would attempt to outdo each other in terms of snoring fits.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, something seemed off.

'Must be the moon,' she thought, peering up at the orb. Her senses always seemed more acute when the moon was more visible. Embarrassingly enough, it also came with a heightened awareness of the other sex. She could be feet away from a man and still be able to feel the heat from his body, and smell his scent.

It was utterly indiscriminate, as well.

She found herself noticing anyone from Zuko and other men her own age to Iroh, much to her alarm. Was that what was causing her restlessness? She took a deep breath. Yes, there was a scent she couldn't quite identify, and it was certainly a boy smell.

But it was not the smoky, woody aroma of Zuko, nor the scent of tea that always accompanied Iroh. This was a clean smell, musky and distinctly masculine. There was Sokka, but she was so accustomed to his smell that it could not have possibly disturbed her.

She frowned. It couldn't be . . .

She turned in her sleeping bag to face the young Avatar. Careful not to wake him or her brother, she scooted a little closer and took another deep breath.

Sure enough, it was Aang.

She pulled back, resting her head on the makeshift pillow and observed her best friend. The last year seemed to be draining the child from him, but Katara had not realized it in the physical sense.

His cheekbones had become more pronounced, emerging from the roundness that had been there when she first met him. The chin was more defined, the nose more proportionate to the face. He had grown, too, she realized. His wrists jutted out from the long sleeves of his tunic. She was sure if she moved the blankets away from his legs, his ankles would be sticking out from his leggings.

Aang would one day be a man. A handsome man. She supposed she had duly noted that fact, but now here was actual proof. She had only thought of him as Aang the child, never Aang the child-who-would-one-day-be-an-adult. But he was, and he was already on his way there.

She felt a stomach do an odd flip, and heat rise to her cheeks. Oh, for goodness sake! Thinking about Aang like that!

She flopped onto her side, facing away from the boy, determined to fall asleep.

Sleep did not come to her for a long time. When it did, it was filled with fracture images of a young man in the robes of an Airbender monk.

**A/N:**...Hm, all my fics take place at night. Just noticed that. Must be some bizarre fixation I've developed due to my insomnia. Weird. Well, anyway, I think _Kinesthesis_ is up next, but don't quote me on that. Note that the vignettes do not necessarily take place in the same universe. And, with Bob as my witness, I will have the next fic take place during the day. Don't worry, they'll get more romantic.


	2. Kinesthesis

**Disclaimer:** Please refer to Chapter 1.

NOTE: EACH CHAPTER IS A **COMPLETELY DIFFERENT** STORY, AND ARE IN NOW WAY PART OF A SERIES. THEY ALL EXIST IN THEIR OWN SEPARATE UNIVERSE.

**Kinesthesis: The knowledge of the exact location of your body parts without having to observe them.**

Chapter 2: The Phantom Syndrome

People say that if you had asked her at age fourteen the exact location of the Avatar, she could have informed you in half a heart beat.

She still can, some say. I believe them.

The entire village acknowledges that Lady Katara is mad. In my eighteen years of existence, there's not a time I don't remember her quiet presence in our village, sitting on the edge of your perception like a fleeting, pale-haired shadow.

She walks between the tents, murmuring almost imperceptibly or she will stare off across the frozen tundra for hours on end, as if waiting for someone who is late in arriving.

No one begrudges her madness; she has led a long, hard life. The most brutal war in history, the reconstruction after, political battles, legend even holds that the Fire Lord, himself, offered to make her his queen. In fact, I think everyone believes that she deserves the oblivious contentment of insanity after everything she has experienced.

Of course, not everyone is so understanding. The poor old dear is a constant target for boys my own age who think that tormenting the old and helpless proves their manliness. They harass the lady and taunt her. One of these bouts of cruelty created the most heartbreaking moment that I have ever experienced. Even if I live to be a thousand years, I will never forget it.

It happened about nine years ago, I believe.

It was Kuja, our chief's son, and his cronies, gathered around Katara making lewd comments and taunting her about past events. I came across them when returning home, and I stood staring at the horrible display. She stood there, a kindly smile on her face, completely unaware of the mockery the boys were making of her. I desperately wished I was bigger, or a boy so I could champion the master waterbender, and beat the living daylight out of the boys.

When they touched on the subject of her deceased brother, my disgust dissolved into rage. I prepared to turn, ready to run all the way home and fetch my father to disband them.

"Where is Avatar Aang, Miss Katara? I would like a word with him."

Kuja's sneered question stopped me dead in my tracks. The other boys snickered and nudged each others, as if Kuja had done something terribly clever.

Horrified, I waited for her reaction. That name always sparked recognition within the fading consciousness. Sure enough, pale blue eyes seemed to lose the mist of age, and for a moment the beautiful, fiery young woman of legends shone through the wrinkled face and downtrodden aura.

"Oh," The great waterbender replied, "He's right here."

She turned slowly and peered directly at me, yet it seemed like her focus went beyond me. Immediately, her face fell, the bright light behind her eyes fading once again behind too many years and hardships. Tears began to run down the weather-beaten cheeks.

"He was right there, "She told me, "He was . . . "

And with that, she shuffled off toward her small tent.

Only Kuja laughed.

I ran all the way home, desperately seeking the comfort of my mother.

I dove into her arms where she sat, mending my baby sister's clothes. I sobbingly related the incident to her, clinging to the soothing warmth only a mother can possess. Finally, the tears ran and the sobs became uncontrollable hiccups.

"Why?" I managed to stutter out.

"Why what, little love?"

"Why does she tink Avatar Aang is still here? He's been dead for more than eighty years!"

"My dear girl," She said gently, "When you lose a piece of your heart, you always feel it."

It wasn't until I fell in love, years later, that I understood what my mother meant.

**A/N: **The chapter title is a play on the phantom limb syndrome, where amputees still feel like their limb is there. Why yes, I am a giant nerd. The next chapter is goofy and happy, to make up for this one.

**Review replies:**

**Notloc**: Thanks! I try.

**Mystic Water Bender3**: I like doing cute. I think I did this chapter to prove to myself I could do something besides cute, and I just ended up depressing myself. I'll update as frequently as I can, but Senior year is a pain in the arse. Thanks for your comments!

**Anuague:** Yeah, this place is just infested by Mss, isn't it. Glad I could provide some relief with canon characters. I love the idea of an Aang and Zuko friendship. It gives me the warm, fangirl fuzzies.

**Snea**: Well, I answered your question, I guess. XP Thanks so much for the review!

**RaeRikkuStrong:** Thank you for the encouraging comment!

**andromedacblack:** The management is not responsible for any bouts of deafness following the snoring battle. I'm very scent oriented, as well, which is why I started off with that. Hey, smelling chocolate everywhere is NOT a bad thing. I wish I had that affliction! Yep, ten body senses. Smell, kinesthesis, vestibular sense, sight, taste, hearing, and touch is broken down into warm, cold, pain, and pressure. Touch may be just one chapter with four drabbles, I'm still deciding on that. I hope you're as enthusiastic now about 9 or ten chapters as you were for smell! Thanks!

**Neko-chan4:** Katara thinks the same way as all of us females, my dear! Thanks so much for your review.

**BN**: Your wish is my command!


	3. Vestibular

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**A/N:** Happy fluff.

**_AUTHOR'S APOLOGY! VERY IMPORTANT! Please read!_**

I am so sorry this is so late. I was bombarded with homework for the last two weeks, and last Wednesday my grandmother died. I was very close to her, so it wasn't fun. And since she lived with my extension of the family, we had to host everyone at our house after the wake and the funeral mass. I just want to thank all of you for encouraging to write. It provides such a great emotional outlet, and without your motivation, I would have given it up a long time ago.

Okay, ending the sappiness, on with the story!

_Vestibular sense: Your sense of balance._

Synesthesia Chapter 3: Free Falling

"Don't you trust me?" The boy delivered the question with an outstretched hand and with, what he hoped was, a beguiling smile.

Katara arched one brow pointedly. She walked to the edge of the bison's saddle, where her friend stood, peering down at the air below Appa's feet. Hundreds of feet below, the oceans lay perfectly still, a sheet of glass reflecting the bright blue of the sky above.

She turned to the Avatar, hands on her hips.

"What? It'll be fun," He coaxed.

"Since when is dying fun?"

He adopted a mock wounded look, placing the once proffered hand over his heart in a show of melodrama.

"My dear lady! When have I ever let you fall?"

Her eyes roamed over the handsome face with its mischievous eyes twinkling, and a grin poking through the forced frown. A warm sensation spread throughout her entire body.

Oh, Aang, if you only knew, she thought. But he did not mean falling in those terms. An affectionate smile wormed its way onto her face.

Again, the hand reached out for her.

"Oh, alright," The waterbender conceded with a sigh, "You win."

She placed her hand into his, not able to put aside the feeling she had just signed her own death warrant.

He pulled her close to him, tucking her head neatly under his chin. She gratefully buried her head in his chest, as it hid the blush blooming over her face. Her heart thundered; the acceleration only partially due to the stunt they were about to pull.

Aang pushed off from the safe ground of the bison's saddle, and they plummeted down towards the ocean. They spiraled madly, Katara clinging to the young monk, the only thing she could in their mad free fall.

Finally, currents of air began to slow their descent, until they stopped only a yard above the water's surface. They hovered there for a moment, up-righting themselves. Katara felt the air swelling beneath her feet, and closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

She wasn't disappointed.

A huge push, like a shove from an invisible giant, sent them spinning upwards toward Appa.

They overshot the giant beast, flying into the air above him. Aang gently lowered them to the saddle.

They collapsed onto the saddle, Katara sprawled across the Avatar, both of them giggling like the children they had been when they first met.

Katara rested her head on her best friends chest, her eyes closed until her world stopped spinning so madly.

Tentatively, she raised her eyes to Aang and hoped that the world had stopped that nauseating rotation.

His gaze was on her, an odd sort of smile on his face.

She drew in a long breath, her stomach doing wild acrobatics at his look. The sky behind his face still spun, but her view of Aang had never been so steady or so clear.

His eyes dropped to her mouth and he leaned closer. She gently came to meet his lips.

Only a hairbreadth away from her lips, his own turned up. And as he asked his question, his mouth brushed hers, maddeningly soft.

"Do you want to do it again?"

**A/N: **I have a love/hate relationship with this chapter. One second I love it, the next I want to delete it. Le sigh. And in other news, this story took place in the daytime! Taste is up next.

REVIEW REPLIES IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. Sorry, I need sleep.


	4. Taste

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: OFFICIALLY OFF HIATUS! And in other news, I discovered upon saying that the next chapter after vestibular would be taste, that three quarters of my readers have gutter-minds. I'm so sorry about the delay, third and fourth quarter were...hectic to say the least. Then I got writer's block. And then the musical, AP exams, graduation practices, graduation, Senior Week, graduation parties, family reunion, freshman orientation, etc.

Synesthesia Chapter 4: Taste

An Acquired Taste

"How can you eat like that?"

"Like what?"

Katara gestured with a sweeping motion at the pile of rice onto which Aang was in the process of dumping liberal amounts of curry.

"With that much spice."

"How can you not?"

The boy jabbed his utensil accusingly at Katara's platter of fried fish, completely untouched by any seasoning.

"How can you live like that?"

"With an unscorched tongue." She took a large bite of her food to prove the point.

"It doesn't bother me," He pointed out, still absent-mindedly applying spice.

You're used to it, Aang," Sokka observed to the twelve year old. Even nearly a century after the complete destruction of the Air Nomad race, it still had the reputation for consuming large amounts of absolutely mouth-igniting food on a regular basis.

This tavern had a few Nomad dishes to choose from, for conversation pieces, with warnings accompanying them. Aang had gleefully ordered them, and the other denizens were stealing glances at him with something like awe in their eyes.

Aang conceded Sokka's comment. He stared thoughtfully into space for a few moments, as his companions went on eating their meals with relish. It was so rare that they got to eat anything other than their own mediocre cooking, made with whatever they could find in their immediate area.

Weary, hungry, cross, and very close to biting each other's heads off, Sokka had made the suggestion they give in and splurge on a place to eat and sleep. It had been one of his more brilliant suggestions.

"You could get used to it."

Katara arched an eyebrow, "How would I do that?"

"I could get you used to it."

The waterbender protested she didn't even want to try.

Aang sulked.

**Four years later**

"Try that, Katara!"

Katara sighed, "Aang, he just said it was spicy."

"It's not that spicy, I promise," The Avatar objected, "You barely even taste it!"

She looked hesitant. Compromises had to be made. The tavern keeper looked back and forth between the squabbling pair, waiting for someone to give him an absolute answer.

"How about I order something bla...er, mild and if you don't like your dinner, we can switch."

The girl agreed, muttering something about Aang taking the blame when she drank the local water supply dry.

But she didn't switch meals with him that night. In fact, after the initial grumbling over the slight burn in her mouth, she admitted she liked it.

Aang felt quite satisfied.

**Ten years later**

"Aang. What did you do?" Dangerous emphasis was put on each word, as the Avatar wove his way through abandoned tables to their seat in the back of the inn.

"I got us food," He explained, simply, placing the platter in front of her. Katara could smell curry and cardamon, and an amalgamation of other spices she could not identify.

"I can't eat that."

"You know your problem is, Katara? You never just try anything. You put way too much thought into everything." He said this around a mouthful of food.

The woman saw this as a challenge, as Aang was well aware she would. He had expected her to dive into her food, just to spite him; he wasn't prepared for the reaction he received.

She grabbed the front of his robes, pulled his face to her level, and kissed him, quite forcefully.

After the initial moment of absolute shock, in which he found he could not move a single muscle, lips included, he brought his hands up to cup her face and deepened the kiss, reveling in it.

Katara tasted all the spices the madman had eaten, and a taste that was not quite anything she could identify. Maybe that's just what Aang tastes like, she thought rather dazedly. All of her thoughts seemed rather hazy and dazed at the moment.

She pulled away, trying to catch her breath, partially so she could sound sufficiently smug, and not dreamy and breathless.

"I just had to sample the taste first."

Aang was speechless.

**A/N:** I shall dub this chapter "Quasimodo," for it's half-shaped and ugly form. Sorry about this one, folks. I'm just getting back into the swing of this story. Dedicated to my friend Amir, who can't understand why Americans like their food so bland.

**Edit:** Glaring grammar errors.


	5. Sight

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Alright, so the idea for taste just kinda shriveled up and died(And it wasn't anything guttery!). I'm excited, because the idea for this chapter is what inspired me to do this series.

**Chapter Five: Double Take**

It's amazing how you never really look at a person, especially those closest to you.

Take my father, for instance. I had a rip-roaring argument with him that lasted nearly five hours over whether I would go with Aang to face Ozai. It took five hours for him to truly look at me and see that his little girl wasn't his little girl any longer. I had become an ancient woman in the body of a teenager. After all, watching the best and worst of human beings that war brings out can age any soul beyond its time. I belonged to the Avatar, and his quest and his soul.

Maybe it was being so intimately attached to his mission that made me oblivious to Aang. Aang was, well, just Aang. He was there when I woke up in the morning, and there when I went to bed at night. He was a constant part of my life.

You would think that almost losing him any number of times would have made me wake up. But for all the dramatic close encounters with death, it took one comment for me to do a double take.

It was all Toff's fault, as it usually is.

It was our celebration in Omashu. We had three other celebrations in various grand cities. Each wanting to shower us with thanks for ending the threat that the Fire Lord presented to their homes and families. I don't think I will ever be that fat again in my life. Nor do I think Sokka will ever be that happy again in his life.

Aang, despite various evasive maneuvers, had been cornered by three young women. They had to be noblewomen, or at least the daughters of wealthy merchants judging by the silk in varying shades of blue that all three wore. I absently wondered if they had coordinated their outfits to cover the entire blue spectrum.

Before you ask, I wasn't jealous. Unless Aang was doing a really good job covering up his attraction toward these girls under a facade of absolute terror, there was not thing to be jealous about. But I was watching the spectacle, ready to save him if any of them got too forward.

"Katara!" I startled and looked over to see Toph. She had apparently been trying to get my attention for awhile and told me so with the air of a slighted monarch.

"What's got you so absorbed?" She asked with an arched eyebrow. Suddenly, a wicked grin crossed the Earthbender's round face.

"Some girl got her hands on Aang, again, huh?"

Sometimes I really think Toph is faking the whole being blind thing.

"Three girls, actually," I muttered darkly.

She smirked.

"Even better. You should really snatch him up, before he gives up on you and gives into one of those leeches."

"What do you mean, give up on..."

But Toph was already halfway across the great hall floor, preparing to participate in her new favorite pastime: disengage Sokka's newest hero-worshiping hanger-on from him by making various allusions to his personal hygiene, the "truth" behind his rivalry with Zuko, etc.

I turned my attention back to Aang. And I looked this time, if that makes any sense, at all. I didn't just take that face for granted, like I did every morning when I woke up.

I saw the boy, but I saw the man he would soon become. I saw the scared child, but I saw the hero. I saw the innocence, but I saw the taint of darkness. I saw the fool, and I saw the sage.

I felt my heart warm in that familiar way, and I saw for the first time that I was in love with my best friend.


	6. Sound

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Wow, long time no writes, folks. My life has been a little nuts this last, and I blame that for my hiatus. But I'm back and determined to finish this project. I really need to see what people have been writing since I was gone!

Warnings: Season 2 Finale spoilers.

Chapter 6: Silence for the Fallen

The world went silent as Aang fell.

There was no echoing crash following Azula's bolt of lightning, like Katara had expected. The Fire Nation soldiers opened their mouths, but no sound issued forth. Not for Katara.

The world remained silent for the one Waterbender watching the world's savior, her hero, tumble lifelessly towards the ground.

She moved without releasing it. The rushing of the water did not register, nor did the crash of the wave on the soldiers still in awe of the princess' bending prowess.

She knelt beside Aang, gathering him in her arms. She heard nothing. No soft breath. No heart beat, even as she drew him close. The avatar remained silent, and so did her world.

Iroh's plea to leave vaguely clicked somewhere in the back of her mind, and she rose from the caverns with Aang's body in her arms.

Sokka and Toph's shouts of concerns, of demands for explanations fell on deaf ears. Katara's focus lay on the boy still laconic in her arms. In desperation, she used the oasis water on the gaping burn on his back. He remained still.

She wanted to cry, to scream all her sorrow at the top of her lungs. But all voice had abandoned her. Instead, the girl clutched Aang to herself.

For the barest instant, she became aware of every aspect of his being. Her heart was pressed to his, willing it to beat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She pulled back, startled by the sound of his heart. His first breath rattled out of his chest, a pathetic noise.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

A/N: Alright, I'm a bit rusty. So please, give me some constructive criticism. I need to get back in my groove. I realize I fudge up a few things, but I have not seen the finale in a few months. I brandish my artistic license in my defense!


	7. Chapter 7: Touch

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1.

**A/N: ** The sensation of touch is technically broken into four separate senses and two complimentary pairs: Warm/cold, pressure/pain. I hope you enjoy this ficwich with angst filling between two pieces of fluff bread.

**Warm/Cold**

_1. Little Ray of Sunshine_

How, Aang thought with no small amount of wonder, could something so small be so warm? He sat perched on a window seat, soaking up the warmth of the rising sun as it worked its first tentative rays into the bedroom.

The heat on his bare back, though, was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his front. The tiny bundle clutched there snuffled grumpily and turned into the comfort of his father's skin. The Avatar brushed his hand along the thick fuzz dusting his firstborn's skull, marveling again at the little radiator against him.

He pulled a tiny hand towards him and pressed a kiss against it. Little fingers wrapped around his own pointer finger in a stubborn grip. He glanced to the bed, to his wife and found her awake, watching the scene with a beatific smile. The sunshine felt cool in comparison to the warmth that spread from his chest to every extremity of his body.

_2. Frozen _

She did not cry as they lay him out. She did not cry as she cleaned and dressed him, nor as she crossed his arms across his chest, the duty of a wife of the Water Tribe.

Even as they lay him in the ground, she stood stoic, eyes tired, but still dry. Her children, his children, all watched her with apprehension, knowing their passionate mother's lack of response to be more dangerous and unhealthy than any amount of weeping.

She watched, as one fascinated but detached, as the cold soil piled up on his peaceful face, bit by bit until it completely blocked him from her view for all time. The winter wind howled through the towers of the Temple, a song of mourning.

The trembling began then, but the numbness still had not left her soul, even as her body began to relent to sorrow. A hand gently took her elbow and led her back to her room. The bedroom seemed cavernous, so empty, and she could see her breath as she exhaled. A glance at the fireplace showed her that no one had even bothered to dispose of the ash, let alone light a fire, in nearly three days. It had not been needed; she had not slept here in that time.

She pulled back the covers and lay down, keenly aware of the empty space next to her. No one would reach for her tonight.

A simple thought, ridiculous really, finally stung her heart into feeling again and her inhalation became a broken sob.

Finally, a tear slid down her face to stain the pillow beneath her head. That one drop released a deluge. The thought, the question, tormented her as she wept.

Who would keep him warm in that frozen ground?

**Pain/Pressure **

_1. Growing Pains _

Throughout his sixteenth year, Avatar Aang persistently suffered from aches in his legs. Even his betrothed's considerable skill with healing could not alleviate them. "Growing pains," she told him simply, "You're heading into your last growth spurt." She walked away, grumbling about bean pole airbenders, as Aang smirked at her. Even then, he stood a good head taller than her.

The pain was not debilitating, only uncomfortable and irritating. Walking appeared to be the only thing that really soothed it for any length of time. So, he spent many nights simply pacing, lapping wherever he happened to be staying. Despite the discomfort, he often found this time to be beneficial, a few hours to simply think as the rest of the world slumbered. Aang solved many a diplomatic conundrum during his restless pacing.

Yet, on some nights, he found the silence morose and lonely, his mind drifting to the solemn and morbid. One such walk in the Fire Lord's palace led him to a portrait of Avatar Roku and his family, which Zuko had restored in honor of his ancestor. The Avatar's wife stood next to her husband, serene happiness radiating from her, even through a medium of ink and paper and nearly two hundred years of time.

It was so different than his last memory of the woman, worry lighting her eyes, as she released Roku's hand. She had let him go, knowing that it could be the last time she saw him. And it was.

Aang's mind drifted to the histories of his predecessors. In nearly six cycles, only one Avatar had outlived his spouse. Katara would most likely see him dead.

The thought made him shiver and he quickly walked away from the portrait. As his legs ached and his heart ached, he wistfully thought of a time when he was younger. His thoughts had been gloriously free of such complications. There was less pain then.

_2. Under Pressure _

The crowd was cheering as the Earth King made his speech, excited for the arrival of their hero. The ruler assured them of peace as long as Aang walked the earth, that his mere presence would bring about the security the world had craved for over a hundred years.

While the man sang the Avatar's praises and the atmosphere lifted into almost a frenzy, Katara watched her friend's (boyfriend's? They really needed to work that out.) shoulders slump lower and lower. Only two weeks ago, Fire Lord Ozai had been defeated and they had been riding on the high of victory. Now, as he waited in the wings to be presented, the Waterbender could see the adrenaline ebbing away, reality sinking in.

He had only crossed one river, the biggest one, granted, but still only one. He would be doing this the rest of his life, with the world looking up at him with hopeful eyes. And if he failed? The Four Nations could be thrown into chaos once more.

Katara crossed the distance between them to stand at his side. She slid her hand into his, twining their fingers together. The boy jumped, before shooting her a sheepish grin. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not even noticed her beside him. Grey eyes turned to their meshed hands, hers dusky and his pale, and gave a nervous squeeze, as if trying to release some of tension.

_I'm scared_, the gesture said.

She returned the favor, though more gently.

_I know and I'm here_.

She tightened her grip.

_I'll always be here. _

His name was announced, but he did not relinquish her hand. Instead, he pulled her with him towards the stage. She made no move to retreat. She would stay by his side.

The weight of the world was much easier to bear between two shoulders.

**Endnote:** Er, well, er. Sorry? It seems it takes me nearly five years, a high school graduation, a collegiate career, moving to and working in another country to finish seven chapters of a drabble series. Laziest woman alive? I'm trying.

To be completely serious, however, finishing this series has made me very nostalgic. I began _Synesthesia_ at a very different time in my life (and a very different time in the show!) and I have grown since then as an author, which I believe to be partially because of this work; and not only this project, but the people who supported me through it. Thus, I would like to thank all my reviewers, who were amazing enough to provide both encouragement and criticism, as well as endless patience. You're all wonderful.


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